Having ascended the throne
of Hell, Madison Wescott is finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Though
she has embraced her demonic nature, she has ensured the safety of everyone she
loves. With both Micah and Nix at her side, she wields more power than she
could have ever imagined.

But
not even the throne is safe when you rule in Hell.

In the wake of a failed
assassination attempt, Madison learns about a realm of the damned older than
Hell itself. A fierce and powerful incubus vows to escape his imprisonment
there — and his efforts are weakening the bonds that hold him and countless
other monsters at bay. With no plan and nowhere else to turn, Madison contacts
an unlikely source for help. But whose side is he really on? Will he help
preserve her reign, or bring about Hell’s downfall?

“So was becoming Queen of Hell. What’s
problematic about going with the flow?”

More of the same unblinking stare from
him. “If you go rogue, Madison…”

Madison slammed against the window-wall
behind her. Despite the pane’s solidness, she felt it shimmy when it received
the brunt of her weight. Recognizing Zen’s new demonstration of power, she
elevated her eyebrows at him. With a smirk, she rubbed her back against the
glass. She palmed her dragon blade as she flung a ninja star. He leaned to the
side, dodging the star with ease. Of course she missed.

“You can’t kill me.”

Only his creator could take him down.

Madison palmed her other dagger and
eased away from the window. “Is this you coming for me, Zen?”

His one-shoulder shrug sufficed as an
answer. The pounding on the door, followed by Nix and Micah’s yelling further
answered her question. Zen had magically locked them out. That’d been why she
saw his power flare for a brief second during their conversation.

She went for him. He blocked each jab
and slash. Every kick and punch. She eyed him as they circled one another.

He
toys with us, her demon remarked.

Of course he does, that was Zen’s way
when they sparred.

“Have I not taught you anything?” He
smacked her across the cheek in a whip-like move she hadn’t seen coming. It
wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but the blow stung all the same. “You tire yourself
knowing I’m the superior fighter. It’s like you sacrifice yourself to me. Too
easy.”

They went at it again. She tripped over
a rug, stumbled backward, and came up dead-footed with her spine against the
windowpanes. He moved into her space. Eye-to-eye they stared at one another,
her panting the only racket in the room.

“So this is how it all ends?” she asked
as he elevated a hand and braced it against the glass next to her head.

“Maybe…”

The door practically throbbed from all
the kicking, pounding, and magic thrown at it.

“You’re scaring my men.”

“They should be terrified.”

Madison settled her hand on his arm. “I
trust you.”

She chugged his magic harder than she
ever had anyone’s, and screamed as pain slashed through her head. Zen’s eyes
widened, silver bright, and he jerked away as his magic held strong, barring
her husbands from the room.

Zen stumbled, his footing off, and he
swayed a moment before going to a knee. Wincing as the pain receded, Madison
circled him and secured her blade in its leather holster.

She threaded her fingers in his hair
and pulled his head back. His shallow breathing surprised her, “Concede
defeat?”

Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time basketball/lacrosse/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband of over twenty years. She has an unusual relationship with her muse, Dom, but credits all her creative success to his brilliant mind. She’s addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football, and coffee…addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She’s convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and when blending coffee and writing together it generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs and Dom’s aggressive demands. Gracen writes is multiple genres—paranormal romance, paranormal erotic romance, and contemporary romance. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracen-miller.com.

Madison’s
mission is complete. Nix is rescued from Hell and her son safe from his dark
destiny. But in the safe harbor of Nix’s love, her demonic husband warns of a
murderous plot. Can she trust that it’s the truth and not another scheme to
claim her for Hell’s throne?

Sometimes internal struggles can house our biggest demons.

With allies
divided and prophecy heralding defeat, Madison gambles on Micah’s tenuous honor
to keep their son protected. Torn between her heart’s desires and her dark
requirements, Madison worries her hellish fate cannot be avoided. When betrayal
comes from an unlikely direction, all their futures may be damned. In the
darkest hour of Madison’s life, an undeniable providence will transpire. Who
can she trust? And how far will she fall to defeat her foes?

She took a deep breath, like she needed
the extra oxygen to deal with him. “Did you square away the angels in Hell?”

“Yes.” Details weren’t necessary when
they both knew he’d instituted a brutal torture regimen for all of them. “Dance
with me?”

“To this music?”

“You didn’t appear to be having any
problem.” He held his hand out toward her.

She stared at his palm. Her expression
was reminiscent of an individual confident selling their soul was a reckless
choice but entering the deal anyway.

“I don’t bite.”

Her gaze felt like an impact against
his. “You did in Hell.”

He wrangled the grin under control.
“Then I won’t bite.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,
Micah.”

“Why?”

A casual shrug when nothing about her
body language suggested she felt relaxed. She crossed her arms beneath her
breasts. “Nix says my idea of dancing is sex with clothes on. He couldn’t
tolerate it and if he couldn’t….” She trailed off and gaped at him as if she’d
just realized she’d been about to insult him.

Micah grinned. “I haven’t lived as long
as I have without executing restraint.” He stepped closer to her. “I’ve
controlled myself with you more than any other.” Because she is my woman and
deserves my respect.

Madison allowed him to pull her arms
free of their defensive fold. Holding her gaze, Micah coaxed her into his
embrace…left hip to left hip, his leg thrusting between her knees, gliding
upward and parting her thighs.

She bit her bottom lip. Her breathing
grew shallow. The heavy beat of the music thumped around them. His pulse
throbbed faster.

Hell’s delights, she felt fantastic
against him.

“Relax,” he said when she remained
inflexible. A soft wind would break one of her bones. “I only want to dance
with you.” Like when they’d been married, just a different manner of movement.
This one more intimate than what they normally partook.

Her focus locked on his jaw, and she
sharply inhaled when he slid his palm down her back and settled on her hips. He
executed the first moves and she followed. As if magnetized, they gyrated in
perfect synchronicity.

Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time basketball/lacrosse/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband of over twenty years. She has an unusual relationship with her muse, Dom, but credits all her creative success to his brilliant mind. She’s addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football, and coffee…addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She’s convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and when blending coffee and writing together it generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs and Dom’s aggressive demands. Gracen writes is multiple genres—paranormal romance, paranormal erotic romance, and contemporary romance. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracen-miller.com.

I have not one, but TWO fabulous cover reveals today to share! I can’t wait to read both. Without further ado, here is the lovely Cassie Mae!

I used to have a cover reveal like, every month. Then there was a LONG break. So I’m a bit antsy to share this one 🙂

Keeping with tradition with my other cover reveals, here is the GIF version of the book.

Once upon a time, there was this girl named Liz.

And she was dating this guy named Landon.

And they are totally in love, so this guy gets down on one knee blurts out while in the shower that he wants to marry her.

She’s in love with him, so of course she says yes.

And they get it on.

But they’ve been together for years, and the sex is a little…

And Liz is determined to not turn into an old married couple before they’re even married.

So she proposes a deal to Landon—no sex until the big day. Anticipation will bring the spark back!

Landon agrees because he doesn’t think she’ll make it.

Liz thinks Landon will be the one to cave first.

And with their hearts set on different honeymoon locales, a bet is made.

But with all the stress of wedding plans, an unexpected job change, and no way to relieve the tension, Liz and Landon start to wonder if they’re ready for a relationship that means more than just the stuff in the bedroom.

And now here’s the cover for it!!!

The actual blurb is below, along with the stuff about me and all those purchase links and yadda 😀

I’m so stoked for this one! (Side-note… it’s my most favorite book I’ve written to date 🙂 )

DOING IT FOR LOVE comes out September 29th!

Spell for the day:

Wingardium Leviosa!

Cassie Mae’s charming, sexy new novel, perfect for fans of Emma Chase, puts a steamy twist on modern love as one bride-to-be tries to put the spark back in the bedroom—by any means necessary.

Elizabeth Fanning’s life looks pretty perfect, judging by the diamond ring on her finger. Her fiancé, Landon, is sweet, handsome, and hilarious. The trouble is, before they’ve even tied the knot, their sex life has gone from mind-blowing to “meh”—and Liz isn’t ready to be part of an old married couple. After a cathartic call to her best friend, Liz comes up with a brilliant idea. She and Landon may never be able to re-create the magic of their first time, but how amazing would their wedding night be if everything below the neck was off-limits until then?

Liz thinks it’ll bring them closer together. Landon’s convinced she’ll cave first. So they raise the stakes: Whoever lasts longer gets to pick their honeymoon destination. With her heart set on the Bahamas and Landon fighting for snowbound Utah, Liz simply has to win. But pretty soon, her body is screaming for attention, and Landon’s never seemed so far away. Has Liz’s experiment backfired? Losing their little competition would be frustrating—but the one thing she can’t afford to lose is him.

Learn more about or order a copy of Doing It For Love by Cassie Mae, available September 29, 2015:

Or add to your Goodreads here:

Cassie Mae (who dons the name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred… okay, maybe not that many… books. Some of which became popular for their quirky titles, characters, and stories. She likes writing about nerds, geeks, the awkward, the fluffy, the short, the shy, the loud, the fun.
Since publishing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend, she has published and sold books to Random House, Swoon Romance, and Tulip Romance. She has a favorite of all her babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is. (Mainly because it changes depending on the day.)
Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge watch Teen Wolf and The Big Bang Theory. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.
You can stalk, talk, or send pictures of Dylan O’Brien to her on her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/cassiemaeauthor

The legend has become reality, even if the people of Shiloh, Virginia don’t know it yet.

Starlette McKinley had moved across the US only to find that the darkness raging inside of her wasn’t something of her own creation. It wasn’t something that could be medically treated by psychiatrists or any type of medication. The darkness was her power, and it was going to stay.

When she accepts that the greatest threat of all lies within herself, she will have to choose. Push away all those that she loves in order to keep them safe, or keep them near and witnessing their death.

Only through the help of The Divine will she be able to face what is to come. But at what cost? What sacrifice will The Divine demand as payment?

Please welcome Penelope Harlow to the blog today! Here is the cover reveal for her debut novella, an New Adult Paranormal called Dark Seductions. Penelope Harlow is a pen name for best-selling YA author Alivia Anders. Thanks for visiting, Penelope!

Title: Dark Temptations (Dark Seductions, #0.1)

Author: Penelope Harlow

Genre: NA Paranormal (18+)

Publication Date: October 2014 – Exclusive to the Howl Anthology

Blurb:

Meet the bombshell with a body count, a smoldering ex-lover, and a wardrobe most celebrities would die for…

Being half-vampire, half-succubus, you’d think I have the best of both worlds.

I do.

The immortality, the riches, not to mention the sex that’s good enough to kill for.

Literally.

But even my perfect life isn’t perfect, as I’m about to discover.

It seems the past doesn’t want to leave me be.

Well, if the part wants a war, I say bring it.

No one f–ks with Caroline Gray.

About the Author:

Penelope Harlow is the sassy pen name for the bestselling YA author, Alivia Anders. What started as an honest giggle to write some kickass females for the mature reader turned into a full-blown persona hellbent on showing readers that the girl doesn’t always need a man to get things done.

Killing Me Softly

Preface

I glance down at my black pointy-toed high heels and realize they’re the most uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever worn. Andy’s mom let me borrow a pair of Andy’s shoes since we wear the same size. It will take me a while to think of her in the past tense. Looking around the room all I see are strangers. None of these people knew her like I did. No one knew the way she loved soft furry blankets and in the summer she loved softy silky pajamas. They didn’t know that she spent more time praying for her friends and animals than she did for herself. No, they didn’t know those things, and they never will.

My best friend, Andy, died four days ago in a car accident with her boyfriend Doug. A car crossed over the center lane and hit them head on. The police say they died instantly. I talked to her exactly ten minutes before the crash, she told me she was going to stop by on her way home. We’ve always done that; stop by on our way home from shopping to show what we bought. Doug took her to Dallas to pick up a guitar and to go shopping. Andy’s parents have money. They spoiled her, but she never acted spoiled. She was kind and giving. For her birthday, her dad gave her a prepaid credit card. She had to keep her grades up, if she did, he’d load a thousand dollars on the card every month for a year. That’s more money than I make at my job. When I go shopping, I hit the thrift stores and yard sales. Just because I don’t spend tons of money on clothes, doesn’t mean I don’t look like I do. There’s a thrift shop not too far from here that I find the best deals. If the outfit doesn’t fit me, I do the alterations myself. My money is from my job at the vitamin store in the mall. Eight dollars an hour doesn’t go far when you’re the bread winner in your family.

Andy didn’t spend the money on things just for her, no, she would buy things for an after school program she worked for as a volunteer. She would give you every dime she had if you needed help. When she went shopping for herself, she would buy a matching outfit for me. She would always say that I was the sister she always wanted.

Linda, Andy’s mom, is making her way over to me, her grief is written all over her face. I stand up and wrap my arms around her thin body and in that moment the magnitude of what happened hits me like a brick wall. I start to tremble, but I force myself to keep it together until I get home. That’s when I’ll have the luxury of breaking down.

“Sugar, how are you holding up?” Linda asks. One of her friends leans over and hands her a fresh martini.

“She loved you so much,” I smell the alcohol on her breath as she kisses me on the cheek. “You’re welcome here any time, you’re part of our family. If that daddy of yours gives you any trouble, you come over and you can sleep in Andy’s room. She’d want you to be here with us, you know that.”

“I know. If you don’t mind, I need to go home and check on my dad. They changed his meds this week. As usual, he’s been in one of his moods. Never mind all that, if you need anything, I’m number five on your speed dial. I’ll drop off the shoes later this week.”

“Holland, keep the shoes, I don’t need them back. Go check on your dad, I’m going to try to get everyone out of here at a decent hour. My head hurts too much to deal with so many people. I love you, Holly, don’t you forget it either.” Andy’s the only person who ever called me by my childhood nickname. When I started high school, I went back to my given name, Holland. Linda pulls me in for another hug, this one is tighter and longer than the last one. In my head I can hear Andy complaining that her mom is getting mushy. I smile at the thought.

“I love you too. I’ll be by soon.” She’s hugging me as if she’s holding onto a piece of her daughter for dear life.

Most everyone here are family or friends of the family. A few people from high school came to the funeral, but everyone bailed before the graveside service. If it were anyone other than Andy, I would have done the same. My heart is heavy in my chest and tears threaten to come, but I suppress them so I can get home before I start the water works.

My street is ten streets away from Andy’s house, but the neighborhoods are polar opposites. Her street is lined with manicured lawns and matching brick mailboxes at the end of each driveway. Several people on our street have taken their mailbox down because some kids drove by with a baseball bat and dented in the metal mailboxes. A couple of the neighbors have cars parked in their yard and many of the houses have some type of car up on car ramps or a jack. Andy’s neighborhood is filled with houses with three bedrooms and two or more bathrooms. Ours isn’t.

I pull into the driveway that is cracked from neglect and hot Oklahoma summers. Our small two bedroom house is dark red brick with white trim that could use a new paint job.

The screen door bangs closed as I step into the living room. Dad is right where he was when I left this morning, asleep on the couch.

“Dad, it’s after two.” I say it loud enough for him to hear me.

He pushes himself up to a sitting position. “How was it? Is her mom holding up okay?”

“It was as nice as a funeral can be for an eighteen year old girl. Her mom’s okay, she’s a strong woman,” I say harsher than intended.

“When will you go to the store to buy groceries?”

The only question he cares about……food. He doesn’t give a crap about the funeral, he’s been sitting on the couch all day. He sits around and feels sorry for himself. “Dad, I told you I don’t get paid until Tuesday. Your Social Security check paid the bills. I have thirty dollars for gas. That’s all the money we have in the bank. There’s stuff to eat, just not what you want. Give me a few minutes to change for work and I’ll make you some supper.”

“You’re working on the day of your best friend’s funeral?” He asks, posing as the concerned father.

“Yes, I’m working on the day Andy was buried. I have to pay the bills, so working isn’t an option. Your prescriptions will be running out this week, I need money for your co-pays. Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now.” I set my stuff down as I head down the short hall to my bedroom.

“Holland, I’m getting better! Don’t you worry, before long, I’ll be able to go back to work!” He shouts out to me.

He’s told me a thousand times how he’s getting better. Per Dr. Paul, his regular doctor, he’s never going to be fit to work again if he doesn’t go to therapy on a regular basis. He’s two steps away from being placed in an institution. He was involuntarily committed last October, it lasted for five days. Being the selfish person I am, it was the most sleep I’ve had in years. He was safely behind locked doors, and I didn’t have to worry about which side of him I was going to come home to.

My little room is large enough for my full-size bed and a small desk I found at a garage sale. Most of my clothes are folded up inside big plastic bins. Andy teased me about my organization skills. She said I’m the only teenager who puts away their clothes on their own. I found it easier to strap a bin of dirty laundry to my skateboard and pull it the two blocks to the Laundromat than to carry it that far. I’ve been doing our laundry since my mom left when I was thirteen. That was the year my dad lost his job with the advertising firm and everything spiraled out of control.

I bend over to tie my shoes and pick up my keys that fell to the floor. I double check my reflection in the mirror before rushing out of my room to make a quick dinner for my dad. Crap! I think to myself as I realize I got more bleach splatters on the hems of my khakis. Thankfully, Gerrie won’t be working tonight to gripe at me about buying a new pair of pants. She find a way to complain about me at every opportunity she finds. She hates it when I wear my long hair down, she says I shed it all over the store. Last year she got upset with me for not being tan like all the other girls in the mall. She told me guys would come in to buy vitamins if I had a tan and wore make-up.

Andy and I would dream up crazy come-backs to Gerrie’s insults, but I never used them.

Andy.

How can I face another day without her humor? How am I going to deal with my dad without her encouragement? How will I carry on?

***

Chapter One. Cheeky

Six months later.

“Yes Aunt Laney, I know his birthday is Saturday. Dad won’t show up for dinner, he never does. He hates surprises and apparently he hates showers too. I know you don’t like to come to our neighborhood, so you can drop it off at the mall. I’m working tonight and tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, I’ll bring it to you at the mall. I’ve reloaded that Visa for you to get some groceries. Holland, you can come live with me, no one would blame you,” Aunt Laney says for the hundredth time. She’s my dad’s older sister and the only family member who still checks in on us. Her husband is a big corporate lawyer who represents every big company in Oklahoma. She was his paralegal, until they fell in love and got married. To ease her conscience she loads a prepaid Visa so I can buy groceries and gas. She paid off the mortgage last Christmas. She has no idea how much easier she made my life when I didn’t have to worry about that bill anymore.

Things have been looking better this year. June moved away and I was promoted to assistant-manager, which included a two dollar an hour raise. “Okay, I’ll see you then….and thank you for helping us by loading the Visa.”

“Oh honey, you’re a doll. I’m proud of you for being such a good daughter to my baby brother. I hope you’ve been able to keep your flawless GPA. You’ve been working so many days a week, it must be hard to keep up your grades.”

I can picture her admiring her fingernails as she talks. She’s always struck me as a superficial person by the clothes she wears and the people in her life. “Thanks, I don’t have any choice, he’s my dad.” I state the obvious. “I’m taking online classes, so it works around my schedule. Not to be rude, but I need to go; I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, I’ll see you this evening,” I click my cell phone off and close my bedroom door behind me.

“Dad, your dinner is in the fridge in the purple container, heat it up for one minute.” I turn the corner and see my dad sitting up for a change.

“You’re going to work early, you should eat breakfast,” he suggests.

“Dad, it’s four in the afternoon. I have to do laundry tomorrow, so it would be nice if you took a shower and put your dirty clothes in the hamper.” He won’t. He’ll give me excuses why he couldn’t shower before I got home. Recently, he developed a fear of showering in an empty house. His therapist called in a new medication, but it only seems to make him more of a zombie and has done nothing for his fear of cleanliness.

“Four? The days sure go by so fast.” He rubs his hand across his unshaven face. He’s not even forty, but you’d never know by the amount of grey in his beard.

“Gotta go, Dad,” I hold my breath and give him a peck on his head.

—­

Friday evening at Darby Springs Mall is crowded as usual, leaving the only parking spaces ridiculously far from the doors. During my lunch period I’ll move my car closer so I don’t have to get security to walk me to my car after work. I ease the Charger between two SUVs, barely clearing the one on my right. Aunt Laney gave me her old one as a graduation gift during my senior year. Old to her is anything older than two years old. She had only owned this one for a year before giving it to me. She even covers the car insurance so it wouldn’t be a burden on me and my dad.

“Hey Sam, can you stay until close? It’s the fifteenth which means payday for the military, and they love to come stock up on the protein powder. This is usually the busiest day of the month.” I glance around the store to make sure everything is in order.

“Is that what’s going on? I had to restock the powder a couple of times already today. One guy wanted to return something, but I told him to come when you’re working. He said he’d come back tonight,” Sam says.

“Will you straighten up the display of Vitamin C? Someone turned all the bottles backwards, it was probably a kid.” Sam’s a quirky guy who spends all of his paycheck on body building powder and his spare time in the gym. He dates a girl I went to high school with, she’s rumored to have appeared in a couple of adult films. She’s a pretty girl but she can’t carry on a conversation without talking about kinky sex. “I’m going to the back to place some orders, if you need me just call,” I say as I turn to the back of the store.

There’s a guy at the register dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt talking to Sam. His short light brown hair is definitely Air Force the way it is perfectly squared off on the back of his neck.

I remind myself that I’m the assistant manager and not to be intimidated.

“Hi, I’m Holland, what can I help you with,” I ask as I step behind the cashier counter. Another pretty-boy airman with his deep dimple and flawless skin. There’s no way he’s much older than I am, that’s good because I don’t typically back down to people my age. Older guys in the military scare me, they seem so hard and angry.

“Hey Holland, Sam here told me to come back when you’re here to refund this powder.”

The first thing I notice are his eyes, pale blue eyes…incredibly pretty blue eyes and smile. The manager-in-training classes I took told me to always hold the customer’s gaze. They obviously never looked into eyes like his. It takes everything in me not to shift my eyes away from him. It makes me feel exposed as if he is literally looking into my soul.

“Yes sir, is there a problem with the powder?”

He’s first to avert his eyes and look down at the jug of Mega Muscle Protein Powder. “It gave me a rash,” he replies without looking up at me.

Most of the guys who come in are embarrassed to admit they ended up with a rash. “A rash? Do you have a photo of the rash?” Our return policy on store-brand products are if it gives you a rash, you have to provide a photo. There’s nothing more disgusting than looking at a rash on a stranger.

“That rule on your policy is pretty intrusive. When I read it, I was floored that it was a real rule.”

Here we go, he’ll turn off the charm and turn into a douche. I’m sure Sam is doing the countdown in his head. “Yes sir, we must turn in the photo along with the explanation in to our corporate office. Our policy is for quality control and has nothing to do with being intrusive. May I see the picture?”

He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through his pictures before holding it up for me to see. Sure enough, it’s a rash… on his ass! He took a selfie of his ass rash in the mirror. He is standing in his boxers and holding one side of them down and taking a picture with his other hand. I need to call Andy and tell her about this, she’s going to die laughing. Dammit! I can’t call her, because she’s dead.

“I need a print of the picture,” I snap. My mood has gone from good to pissed in two seconds.

I cock my head to the side, my go-to defense pose when I’m hiding my feelings from the world. “I didn’t write the rules, but I follow them.” This is the look Andy called my bitch-face.

“Look, I’m not going to go print off a picture of my ass to get a thirty-five dollar refund. You can keep the powder and the money.” He shakes his head back and forth before taking his receipt and folding it up neatly before returning it to his wallet.

I stand at the register and watch him walk out of the store.

“What happened?” Sam asks.

“Nothing, I’m following policy,” I reply nonchalantly.

Sam looks at me like he wasn’t buying it for an instant. “Holland, one minute you were okay and the next you flipped and were pissed off.”

“I didn’t flip.” I gather up my paperwork to tally out our sales for the day. My dad flips, I just get pissed.

“I think there’s Pamprin in the office, if you need it,” Sam says sarcastically. Good thing I like him or I’d write him up just because I can.

“I’m not PMSing and just for that, you get to mop the floor tonight.” Without turning around, I head back to the office. When memories of Andy pop into my head, I’m reminded how lonely life is without her. I’ve been going to her grave and sitting there for hours. She was always my sounding board when it came to my dad, now I feel guilty for all the times I made her listen to me complain. We should have spent more time doing pranks and laughing at stupid movies. Now, I’ll never be able to do those things with someone. Lately, everything reminds me of her and I’ll either cry or get angry. It isn’t that I’m mad at her, it’s I don’t know when the pain will stop. My therapist says dumb things like, time heals all wounds, or everyone grieves differently. The therapist was Aunt Laney’s idea since the health insurance policy she bought for me covers the visits.

“Knock, knock,” Sam’s voice brings me back to reality. “Hey, do I really have to mop the floor? I have plans after work and I don’t want to smell like bleach and dirty mop water.”

“I told you to mop not take a bath. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t ever hint for me to take Pamprin again, okay?”

“Deal. Your Aunt Laney is in the store, do you want me to send her back here?”

I’ve thought of myself as a writer for as long as I can remember. I played grown-up with my family, until everyone grew up and left me to figure out what I really wanted to be. Jumping over the cliff, I took a leap of faith and wrote my first full length novel, The Legacy of Kilkenny. My love of young adult books, helped mold me into the writer I am today. The books I write, reflect the types of books I enjoy reading. Every story I write will have a huge twist at the end, one that often leaves the reader in shock (no pun intended, if you know me, you know why I say that, LOL). Thank you for considering to read my books. Happy reading!

Please welcome Joanne Troppello, author of the newly-released Bella Lucia, to the blog!

Using Details to your Advantage

In my life, I’m a very detail oriented person. However, when I write, sometimes I forget about the details because I’m too excited to write the story. Details are very important—sharing too much information might bore the readers and not sharing enough could leave the readers dissatisfied, wanting to know more.

As with so many things in life I believe in finding balance in the usage of details in my books. I’m learning to meet in the middle and add more than what I did before because I was lacking in my presentation of the story.

Sophie absently listened to the girls’ conversation and sat down at the table. Her love of architecture and design drew her eyes up to admire the big arched windows close by. She liked the secluded area where the host seated them. She took a quick survey of the surroundings and noticed the ceiling, at least thirty feet high. Massive arched and squarewindows lined the parallel walls. The chandeliers sparkled beautifully and that light combined with the sunshine made a glorious sight.

Alexander came over and interrupted her thoughts. “This was the hot spot since the eighteenth century. I bet you didn’t know that.”

****

Admiring the great architectural design of the room, Sophie sat down at the table and absently listened to the girls’ conversation. Alexander came over and interrupted her thoughts. “This was the hot spot since the eighteenth century. I bet you didn’t know that.”

Which example do you think best utilizes detail? I’m sure we’d all agree the first one does. Without going on forever, the first example gives just enough detail to pull you into the scene; whereas the second example leaves you wanting to know more detail about the “great architectural design of the room.”

How can you utilize details to your advantage? You can be stingy with your details. What? Wait a minute, you say. I know I just got done sharing that you shouldn’t skimp on details. To clarify, you need to value each and every detail you include as if it were a gold coin. You don’t want to include details just to include them. Really, every word we write should have a good reason behind it for why it’s included in our novel.

So, if you want to tell the reader that someone is wealthy, should you write?

Jasper Jenkins was

a very wealthy man.

Or would you go with option two?

Jasper Jenkins drove his BMW (or whatever other luxury car you’d like to include) up to the iron gatehouse and punched in the security code. The gate opened and he drove down the long, tree-lined private driveway. He came to a stop near the Italian fountain and exited the car just as Nigel, his butler, came rushing down the front steps to assist with carrying the luggage inside the sprawling mansion.

Remember that you are creating the movie or word picture in the reader’s mind. Of course, the reader will create his or her own picture while reading—but the point of being an author is to give the reader all the details he or she needs to see the picture you want him to see…in order to correctly portray every aspect of your story in the best possible way.

Where do you stand on details? When you read, do you like to know as much information as possible or do you think less is more? For the authors, do you load on the details in your books or keep it simple?

After being married for six years, Gwen and Lucas DeStefano are dealing with the pain of a childless marriage and trying to trust God for their future. On a weekend getaway to the Poconos, they attempt to relax and renew their marriage, but witness an event that turns their lives upside down. They see a body dump in the woods while they are on a hike and their lives become entangled in a web of suspense and God’s ultimate blessing in the form of a little baby girl, named Bella Lucia. Will Gwen learn to trust God with childlike faith and wholeheartedly accept His plan?

Det. Marc Abrams is assigned to the murder investigation of Sabrina Reysen and he will do whatever it takes to find her killer. He has his suspicions and is pleasantly surprised when he meets Samantha “Sam” Collins, the attractive US Marshall assigned to protect one of the witnesses in this case. Will Det. Abrams find the killer before it’s too late and is the attraction between him and Sam strong enough to survive?

Joanne Troppello is an author of romantic suspense novels. She has published three books: Shadowed Remembrances, Mr. Shipley’s Governess and Bella Lucia. Currently, she is working on her new writing project, The Paradise Redeemed Series. Joanne is married and loves spending time with her husband and family.She enjoys interacting with readers at The Mustard Seed Blog.